This is something I wrote earlier this morning... (I've been a nurse on a cardiac intensive care step-down unit for 1 year, which will make the rant below make more sense)
***12/29/11
It is 01:57 and I feel like I'm on the verge of breaking down. However, it appears that I'm
starting to climb the mountain, uncertain step by step, rather than allowing myself to tumble down the rock face.
I am compelled by a strong desire to alter my physical appearance in such a way as to camoflage myself in the corporate
spaceship, but just as easily re-adorn myself and shed layers along with the pretension I distastefully wear. I need to
find ways to help me leave work where it belongs... leave the verbal abuse, the sexual harrassment, the backstabbing, the
bodily fluids and the sometimes grotesque practices employed in "saving lives" where they belong... otherwise, I fear for
my capacity to *genuinely* be compassionate towards other human beings now and in the future.
I disclose little to others, when in fact, I am a tattooed and pierced anarcho-existentialist. Does the little piece of
metal in my face make me a different person than yesterday?...does it, punk?! To be fair, maybe it does...for I feel a
bit stronger constitutionally...proactively walking away from the haunting images and experiences I deal with 38 hours a
week.
I simultaneously desire running into and away from people on the street when I am exposed for what I truly am...the
volcanic underground in myself brought to light.
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I do not want to label or self diagnose myself, but reading a story in the NY Times about people with Asperger's syndrome really hit home
in a way... my tendencies towards hermitage because interacting socially is draining...the way it is very difficult for
me to make eye contact with anyone except my partner... how I relate so much better to animals than with most people... an eye
for details and great annoyance when I feel I have not included all the details I need to in my charting at work...how I
want to physically harm someone when they make certain noises, how I repetitively crack my knuckles/right wrist and now
my neck especially when I'm anxious/disturbed............. is this a missing piece?
I often find myself, in the middle of listening to people, more focused on how I should compose my body and my face than
on what they're telling me (it doesn't seem to matter though; people seem to simply like to have a person to talk to,
charging on oblivious to the listener's thoughts)... It seems like I've been able to become fairly socially adept since
high school, but it isn't natural, at all...I am so much more comfortable alone at home with my partner and my creatures...it
took quite a while to become comfortable around his friends, but I'm glad I finally did. I've had to be careful,
realizing that most people don't really like to listen to what you care about, especially if you go on at length about
the nuances of dwarf shrimp reproduction or the benefits of certain types of classical guitar strings. So, I keep it to
myself. ***
29 Dec 2011, 6:30 am
